George Brant’s two-hander with music is a triumph of performance over material. Marie and Rosetta goes over well-trodden ground: the aspirational empowerment of women oppressed by virtue of their birth, their colour and their exploitation by men. It is set in one night in 1946, when the wisecracking but jaded ‘Godmother of rock ‘n’ roll’, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, her celebrity and career fading in the shadow of Mahalia Jackson, plucks an unknown Marie Knight from a nondescript quartet, impressed by her voice, to join her in her forthcoming concerts. Tharpe, it is said, could outplay Chuck Berry and oust Aretha Franklin, bringing, as she says, ‘a bit of the church to the Cotton Club and a bit of the Cotton Club to the church’ as she navigated the two worlds of powerful, faith-driven gospel and secular risqué material for whites-only clientele.
Marie Knight, played by Ntombizodwa Ndlovu, is depicted as a young, uptight innocent of faith, easily offended by what she considers sinful lyrics emanating from Rosetta’s mouth despite her profuse admiration for her iconic heroine. The show is one which I would categorise as ‘worthy’. In its two-hour running time, there is a lot of text, largely from Beverley Knight as Rosetta, arms swinging as she prowls the stage, challenging, encouraging and joking with Marie in her Southern Black patois. She is the teacher; Marie is the student at her feet.
Amidst the text are iconic gospel and rock hits, backed by live musicians, such as “Didn’t It Rain,” “Up Above My Head,” and “Peace in the Valley”, and the racy Cotton Club classic “I Want a Tall Skinny Papa”, performed in a dynamic duet between the two women:
That’s all I’ll ever need
He’s got to be all mine
Treat me fine
Walk the chalk line
And stay on my mind
He’s got to be alright
Learn to fight all night
Mama will do the rest
I say the show is ‘worthy’. I wish I could be more positive about the writing. It certainly has its moments of humour and pathos, but as a whole I found it rather preachy and over‑moralistic, and the context in which the narrative takes place somewhat artificial. The touching denouement (which I shall not reveal) shows a certain lack of originality. The songs often come as a welcome relief from the experience of being hit over the head by the lesson-heavy dialogue. I did find one of Brant’s themes interesting, and that is the link between music and faith and the respect both women, in different ways, express for their beliefs.
I have no such reservations about the performances. Knight is simply superb in what can only be described as a grandstanding, commanding performance in speech and in song. She has already won awards for her performance in an earlier iteration of the show and deservedly so. Her voice is thrilling, her reading of the text in totally authentic Southern speech distracting from and covering the deficiencies in the script. Similarly, Ndlovu presents an endearing portrait of a humble youngster on the point of likely stardom, eager to please but often afraid to overreach her position in the duo. She also has a voice and a half.
In terms of production, the show is played, under Monique Touko’s confident direction, in the round on circular lime green platforms (design by Lily Arnold) and well lit by Matt Haskins.
The packed press night house loved Marie and Rosetta. With certain reservations, so did I, but the luminous performances by Beverley Knight and Ntombizodwa Ndlovu alone are well worth the price of admission.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
